Memento Mori
by UnderminetheAuthority
Summary: Gajeel is a part of Fairy Tail—renowned 'strongest guild in Fiore', with nothing standing in its way…until a sinister dark guild rears forth. Perhaps it was always there. Always haunting. Always sliding through the night. But only now have they been noticed. What is this new mysterious foe, Memento Mori, and who is their blue-haired thief, who Gajeel cannot stop running into?
1. Prologue

**Memento Mori**

_Gajeel is a part of Fairy Tail—renowned 'strongest guild in Fiore', with nothing standing in its way…until a sinister dark guild rears forth. Perhaps it was always there. Always haunting. Always sliding through the night. But only now have they been noticed. What is this new mysterious foe, Memento Mori, and who is their blue-haired thief, who Gajeel __cannot stop running into? Rated M for dark themes and sexual content—Badass Levy, obvious GaLe, and additional Yuri. NO FLAMES: Don't like, don't read._

She slipped through the night. A phantom. A ghost. A remnant of darkness itself, a fleeting blur across the starless skies, translucent color leaping from rooftop to rooftop. Beside her, two other blurs matched pace. Larger. Taller. Masculine in gait. However, they were no less stealthy in the still of Magnolia's sleeping streets. Each footstep, each breath, each rustle of clothing battered against the wind of their speed, was silenced by the runes entwining the bodies.

Silence, it said. Silence, silence, silence wrapping their skin, faint whispers of ink over their hands and arms and chests. It was her magic—the magic of words itself. Solid script. She was the only one in Memento Mori to possess such a skill. In fact, all of their skills were quite unique, as they were handpicked to have their own little niche in the dark guild.

They stopped abruptly, dropping soundlessly into the stomach of an alley. Now still, their dark cloaks barred them from sight. They were very simple—loose hooded cloths, adorned with nothing but the abyss of its hue. The girl was small in stature, flanked by two men, the leaner of which was taller, though both were quite fit. At once they looked at eachother…small glances, quick stares, tensing of the lips and clenching of the jaw.

_We weren't followed._

One of the buildings they were hidden against was a restaurant, long cleared out. It was 1 am, and it had closed for the day hours ago. The other building, much nicer, clean, and free of graffiti—she'd have to change that—was a pricy apartment complex.

It was also the home of their most recent target.

No…

Victim.

They knew this place inside out after studying it for a week, meticulously, day and night. They would pass it in their civilian clothing carrying groceries. They would watch through the windows at night, sneak in and map it out when no one was home, eat at the restaurant next door while tracking activity. It was how they discovered that security was tight in the front, too open at the top, and clear from the alley. It was how they learned that the old woman on the third floor had a dog with an acute sense of smell, that the young couple above her liked to fuck at 12:30 and were asleep again by 2:00, that their victim was a rich rookie mage next door to them.

The hooded girl nodded to the shorter, but not short, of the men. He exhaled, pulled two seeds from his cloak, and faced the wall of the apartment complex. There was a dim green glow as he folded his hands over the seeds and pressed them against the wall. Within moments, the stone began to crack, and the girl had began to whisper under her breath. She too put her hands on the wall. The words 'silence' flowed from her pale skin to the wall, snaking through each crack, over every rough surface, each nick and cranny. Soon her skin was washed of ink, while the wall wound with breathing inscriptions.

The cracks webbed across the wall, gilded with green. The seeds had sprouted, carefully winding into the wall and pulling it apart, cracking the stone, then filling the cracks and expanding even more, until most of it in a five foot square radius had crumbled and there was a wall of browning roots in its place. Then the man pulled away his hands, and the roots withdrew into his flesh, leaving a gaping hole soundlessly formed.

There were faster ways to get in, yes, but this was the most quiet, most safe of methods. She, with her solid script, could have blasted it open. However, she'd have been hard pressed to silence the explosion. She could have frozen it solid and shattered it like glass, but that could stretch far throughout the building. Using her partner's patient expertise was more meticulous, just like their prepared methods.

The girl and her comrades disappeared inside. Victim on floor four. Quickly they traversed—floor two, up the stairs. Floor three, masking their scent from the obnoxious dog with a clear liquid the shorter man produced from his palms. Floor four, past room 403. They could hear moaning. A woman's high voice, straining to keep quiet, dull in the sheets and pillows. They could hear low grunts, a creaking bed, the steady rhythm of what could only be the man thrusting into her beat after beat. They would be in too much pleasure to notice any faint noise the trio may make, and the sound of their senseless fucking would mask their approach to the sorry young man who will not see the sunrise.

Room 404. Cold metal—she ran her fingertips over the doorknob.

"Solid script _picklock_."

At once there was the mechanical clink of metal as the lock undid itself. She pushed the door open, and used the last bit of silence she could spare to silence the creaking of the floor. She knew the exact spot the floor usually groaned under the weight of those coming and going, the exact inch and coordinate.

At the far side of the polished room was a bed, and in it, the figure of Ramones DePorte. Poor guy, really. Wasn't his fault he had something they wanted. No…something they needed. It was in his eyes. He had the magic of heat, seeing heat. Like heat goggles, only better. Heat for magic. Unfortunately for him, to take it, they had to take all of it. They had to take the essence of his magic itself, and also the very essence of his sight. They were in front of him now. The same man who produced the seeds now crushed one in his hands and put it firmly over Ramones's mouth and nose. It produced a chloroform like effect, sinking the man into a deep sleep before he was able to realize what was happening.

The taller man then flipped him over in his bed, out of the sheets, face up. The girl could not see her partner's expression as he took a gloved hand and ran it over the man's eyes, and knew it was one of practiced stoicism. But the girl also could not look as his fingers sunk into his sockets and yanked out each eye with a sickening tear of flesh. The girl could not look as blood flowed freely and soaked, and could not look as the open sockets were quickly treated and bound.

The taller man, with his clean hand, gently shook her shoulder. She turned back and met his gaze, both seemingly emotionless, as they went back the way they came. As soon as they were back in the alley, her partner's speed magic engulfed them, and they were once again but fleeting blurs across the starless skies.

Their victim would awake with an immense pain in his eyes. He would scream in terror, without memory, and the young couple next door would burst in from the unlocked door. They would call Fairy Tail, but the victim would recall nothing. The mages would find a hole in the wall on the first floor, and they would find drops of the poor victim's blood, along with a single strand of cobalt blue hair.


	2. Bad Omen

**2: Bad Omen**

Last night, Gajeel had a midnight visitor. Now, he was used to that—women at his door when the sun was down, women in his bed as the stars lit up, women under his dominating grasp, women sent away dazed, bruised, with payment in one hand and a wrangled lust in the other. But this was no normal visitor.

It had been months since Phantom Lord's dissolution, months since Gajeel was accepted as a loyal member of Fairy Tail. Though he could now not fathom a reason for ever leaving the guild that has grown on him, he also did not know how they could trust him so easily. Either way, when he joined Fairy Tail, his old friend Juvia Lokser did not.

He met with her several times. Tried to convince her. Looked into those rainy, defeated, soulless eyes. Told her he loved her—friend love, platonic love, the love that grew from years of shared isolation.

She'd only smile. A cruelly empty smile that screamed with agony. She'd only smile, and then she'd disappear in the rain.

Every time.

But last night was different. She came to him—usually it was the other way around—in the midst of a thunderstorm she most likely caused. Her umbrella was gone. Instead she traversed with her curls messy and jagged and weighed by water. It was shorter, he noticed. Short and edgy and uneven. She refused to come into his rickety apartment, and told him she was sorry.

Gajeel could remember it. The smell of her dirt and rain soaked clothing, the touch of her cold fingers as she touched his cheek and apologized over and over. He noticed it then—her pale, thin arms were riddled with more notches on his bedpost. Suddenly she looked very weak. So small, so frail, in spite of the tidal waves flowing through her veins.

_Juvia doesn't know if she'll ever see you again,_ she said. Her voice was more detached than ever, her third person speech dreadfully haunting. Juvia was crying silently, yet the emotion of sorry bled not from her eyes, but from the uncontrollable trembling in her hands. _Juvia is joining a guild. You won't like it. She's sorry. __She's not a good person, Gajeel. You're a good person. It was always you, not Juvia, who had the option of redemption. Gajeel…Gajeel…_

He rarely showed emotion that wasn't anger, wrath, darkness, and hate. He rarely did. But seeing his only friend for so long, the one he never thought he'd lose, look as if she'd disappear into the rain again and never come back…

She turned around, tearing away from his gaze. It had dissolved into one of betrayed sorrow. First his dragon father, now her?

At last she spoke.

_Juvia is joining Memento Mori._

At that moment, there was a deafening silence, broken only by the roaring crack of thunder. And at that, his friend was literally gone, fleeting mist in the pouring skies.

Now, Gajeel did not know much about Memento Mori—they were a dark guild, and they've been flooding Fairy Tail's radar, but that was the extent of his knowledge. That is, until he was ordered to investigate their most recent raid.

He was with Natsu and Lucy, also the only free ones to be sent on the job. The point of interest was a pricy, sleek apartment complex.

"I wonder why a dark guild would bother with this place," Lucy wondered. "Civilian targets? Usually dark guilds target…well…high profile groups. You know. Like us."

"Maybe they were bored!" Exclaimed Natsu, eyes lighting up. "I'm right, right? I mean, we destroy things all the time when we're bored."

"You mean you destroy things when you're bored," she scoffed.

"You destroy everything, flame brain," Gajeel smirked. "Unfortunately, things aren't that simple in dark guilds."

The trio started into the building, making their way quickly up the stairs. The report was that there was an injury, but it was already treated, so there wasn't much urgency in their pace.

"You were in Phantom Lord," the dragon slayer contemplated, "So what's your input?"

"Yeah…I don't really remember you guys messing with little things like civilians. Usually you tormented other guilds."

"You'd be surprised," he snickered. They were at the third floor, passing a room that erupted into high pitched barking. Stupid dog."We did plenty. We just didn't advertise it, and we didn't make injuries large enough to notice or at places with reputable people. These guys may just be civilians, but they're people with money, and that makes them important."

Rounding onto the fourth floor, they came face to face with a young couple. They visibly relaxed upon seeing them, in spite of being somewhat wary of Gajeel's rough appearance. He was used to it.

"You're Fairy Tail, right?" The young man asked. There was a slight tremble in his voice. Unmanly, as Elfman would say. "Natsu, Lucy, and…."

"Gajeel," he growled.

The young man nodded nervously, and rushed them over. "We woke up to screaming this morning, not even half an hour ago. Now he's knocked out from some pills we gave him."

Room 404.

As soon as they got to the door—wide open and with AC flowing out—the couple opted to stay in the hall. Lucy frowned. Could it really be that bad? She was used to seeing damages. Burns. Gashes. Bruises all over, garden varieties of cuts and broken bones. They were young after all, probably just squeamish.

They moved in, Natsu moving in front. He was curious more than anything, but then rushed over to the bed at the side of the room. It was soaked with blood, the coppery stench stronger than the metal of Gajeel's magic. He could tell the blood was still wet, soaked so deeply it would have to take quite a while to dry.

"Shit, is he dead?" He wondered aloud. Without sparing a second, he grabbed the body in the bed and flipped it over to face him. Feeling the heat radiating from his body, and seeing the color of his cheeks, Natsu concluded him very much alive. Bandages wrapped around his eyes, sloppy but tight and thick. Ignoring his partner's frantic objections, Natsu burned the bandages from his face, and stepped back in shock.

He expected perhaps large bruises or cuts. Minor injuries, nothing new. Instead he was left with a grotesque image of agony—good thing the couple drugged him out, or the poor man would be out on his own from the sheer pain. Lucy looked over warily and gasped, stomach making a flip. She looked away.

Gajeel did not. He stared, and stared, took it all in. It was disrespectful to do otherwise, just like how he could not look away from Juvia's faint figure, so frail he thought it would collapse completely.

The man's eyes—they were nothing more than gaping craters. The eyelids were rended flaps of skin, sinking into gooey dark holes. White bone poked out from ribboned flesh, pockets of gelatinous blood collecting from sealed vessels. The gaping bloody holes decorated the man's face like eyes of a skull, large and mournful on their own, and no less haunting.

To the iron slayer's surprise, Lucy stepped back up. Though not quite looking the wound in the eye, she grabbed bed sheets and sliced strips with her whip. "Natsu, cauterize the parts that are still open. Gajeel, investigate the rest of the building, try to find where this bastard got in and out. After you're done, Natsu, wrap his head with these strips. I'm gonna gets some real medics in here."

_Don't order me, woman_, is what Gajeel wanted to say. _You're not anyone's leader_. But instead he left, checking every window, vent, unchecked door and stairwell.

He got the the first floor last, opting to check out the higher ones first. When he got to an area near the bathrooms he felt a draft chill his skin, followed it, and found a jagged hole in the wall. It led outside into an alley, and cursed himself for not somehow realizing it on the way in. The hole was made with sheer strength, it seemed. No chemicals, no fire, no ice. The cracks webbing around the thick walls were made from pure power, as if it was smashed in.

There was no residue of an explosion. However, as he was checking for some remnant, some sign of what could have happened, knowing the culprits were long gone, he came across a single strand of cobalt blue hair.

When he picked it up, a strange feeling came over him. His chest clenched, and he wondered, was it you, Juvia? Looking over his shoulder, Gajeel closed it in his fist, and stuffed it deep into his pocket.

_**Thanks to those of you who read and reviewed! Though it was brought up that Memento Mori may be a reference to Death Parade, nice insight, but that's a miss folks-the term Memento Mori is that from the medieval era, a Latin phrase of mortality relating to Ars Moriendi-the art of dying.**_


	3. Logophiliac

**3: Logophiliac**

Levy awoke in a cold sweat, her body chilled and sore at the brink of dawn. It was raining outside, the soft pitter patter of rain like the fall of restless tears, and she became suddenly aware of the faint rustle of blankets besides her.

Right. That's right. There was a new member of Memento Mori, and she they had begun sharing a room. The script mage's old roommate had died in battle long ago, leaving the dimly lit guild room to her. Levy did not know how or why her old roommate had died, for she didn't know her well at all. Even her name was lost, little more than a scrap of worthless recollection.

She turned her head to the opposite bed. Her new roommate was no different, faint in presence, lonely, and very much unaccustomed to things. Should she die today, Levy did not know if she would feel anything. It was hard, really, for any camaraderie to spark with her beyond the few she held dear. There were her brother-figures, Jet and Droy, there was her adopted sister, Wendy, and her sadistic friend Milliana…but that was about it.

The others came and went and came and went, and after the first ones, she learned to let them pass through her as little more than names to be soon forgotten. Kinmanship was too painful, as was memory, and they had all learned that. Devotion was all the guild needed, and as long as you pursued and believed in the purpose, then selflessness and friendship were unnecessary.

Look out for number one. Everyone else?

Background noise.

It seemed, however, that the new girl was stuck in between. She had the purpose burned into her bones, that was for sure, and she seemed rather used to solitude. Yet, there was an aura of longing about her, for something she had left but could not forget.

Memory was a cruel thing.

Juvia was her name, Levy recalled. They were introduced right after her mission, and settled in fast. She cleared out half of the room and fixed the bed, though she bet she could have left everything alone and it wouldn't have mattered. The new girl had no possessions save for a little white ghost of a doll, and a piece of metal.

In her bed Juvia slept restlessly, turning under the sheets every few minutes. Her blue hair, duller but sleeker than Levy's, chopped ragged and short yet still with an enticing wave, was a mess. She had skin like snow and lips like frost, the thrill of life sucked out of them. Slender arms and piano fingers were hauntingly lithe, and Levy could see the faint kisses of a blade snaking across them. She had scars of her own, and felt a small pang of pity for what was so dreadfully relatable.

However, she bit her lip and turned away, sitting up on the bed while it creaked and groaned. She hoped guiltily to herself that her roommate would come to fade away, and fast, before their lonely hearts ended up seeking more futile warmth.

Knowing the roughness of Juvia's sleep, and knowing she would not stir her anymore than she already has, Levy got up and got changed. She slipped on civilian clothes, loose white shorts hanging down to her knees, a blue crop top, black suspenders, and a white bandana. Simple silver hoops, a dab of hardly-there eyeliner, sandals unnoticeably signed around the edges. She brought a bag with her, using a tinge of magic to fit in a cloak—just in case—enough jewels to splurge on books, a notepad, and a communication lacrima. The lacrima was critical. Should Wendy or Milliana need her for some reason or another, as they oftentimes did, they could call.

Levy tightened her grasp on it as she slid it into the bag. Plus, it was always good to have one on her in case she spiraled, which she liked the think was not as often.

Taking one last glance at her new roommate's sleeping form, the dark mage walked out, the door silently locking behind her.

Memento Mori, though a dark guild, did not have the dark visage that people imagined there to be. In reality, it was stretched all throughout Fiore. Shadow Gear—the trio with Levy and her guys—along with Wendy, Milliana, and about eight others were a part of the Magnolia force. Throughout Magnolia itself they were separated into specific guild provided homes with covers. Levy, Milliana, Wendy, and now Juvia lived at a flower shop. Levy and Juvia's room were in the basement, whereas Milliana and Wendy housed comfortably in the attic.

The flower shop itself was also run by the three, and now four of them. Customers never noticed new faces as they were accustomed to the flower shop staff constantly changing under the assumption that the shop mostly hired college students. And as such, those students would always leave and be rehired as often as members of the guild were recruited, relocated, and died.

The sun was just rising, and Levy had gotten four hours of sleep. More than usual, really. She was accustomed to being awake all night with nightmares of the things she's seen, or having night missions. As she passed through the flower shop—bigger than one would expect—she could hear Milliana awakig from the attic. She had first shift today, which meant a lot of guys, and girls, would show up smitten just to flirt with her.

Levy, on the other hand, rushed to the book store. It was run by a nice old woman, and she frequented the place nearly every day. It was a nice place to get away from things. From the streets she associated with night jobs and assassinations. From the magic she'd just used to help steal a man's eyeballs. From the missions. There were always a couple days between assignments, and she was determined to use them to unwind a little.

Gajeel asked himself again why he was going to the bookstore with Salamander at nearly six in the morning, asked himself again how it was a good idea, and asked himself for the final time why he shouldn't just demolish the torturous building of horrors instead.

Reading?

Psshh.

Not in his lifetime.

But nooo, Kurogane Gajeel, iron dragon slayer, great Fairy Tail mage finds himself walking into the scent of old books and dust.

"Hurry the fuck up, Salamander," he snarled at his pink-haired companion. The teen had insisted upon going to the bookstore, as it was Lucy's birthday tomorrow. He knew that she loved this wretched place, and had been meaning to earn money for a whole array of books here. Many he suspected to be inspiration for the celestial mage's amateur novel in progress, though neither dragon slayers could tell the difference between an ancient tome and a children's picture book.

"Cool it metal head," Natsu replied nervously. One step into the store and both were overwhelmed by the amount of books. Books were scary…they could deal with monsters and dragons and thugs and mercenaries, but not books! They sucked out your very soul, replacing it with the dreadful sensation of utter and incoherent boredom!

"Let's just get what we came for and get the hell outta this place," he growled. "So…what are we here for again?"

….

"Salamander!"

…

He laughed weakly, scratching the back of his head.

"Hey, don't tell me…do you not know?"

"Nope!"

"The hell…why do I bother with you?"

Natsu gave a feral, smirking grin. "'Cuz Lily told you to~"

He was right, really. For such a tough piece of scrap metal, Gajeel bent like plastic to Pantherlily. He was like a father figure, despite being a freaking cat, and so when Lily told him to help out Natsu, he agreed. He was unaware, however, that it would be less helping out and more stumbling through a labyrinth of ink and paper filled nightmares.

A deep snarl rumbled in his throat. Suddenly glad that there were very few customers around, Gajeel shoved the smaller dragon slayer deeper into the shop and ventured to the other side. "Whatever. Let's get this over with. Go take your guesses."

He, on the other hand, was gonna find Lucy's stupid books and beat it. The rows and rows and rows of worthless paper were all the same to him, but this was a bookstore, which meant it had to be filled with nerds that would know something. Lucy went here so much any regular should have a slight clue.

Gajeel shrugged to himself, turning between another isle of shelves and knocking right into someone. The person in question was small and light, falling backwards with a thump and tumble of books onto the carpet. Surprised, he looked down to see a petite girl with a crop top, suspenders, and brilliant blue hair, rubbing her hip where she fell. Thick tomes and scrolls were scattered about her, and her hands were distinctly dark with ink.

Somewhat guilty and somewhat amused, he did not reach out his hand to help her out, but began to gather up the treacherous books around them.

"Didn't quite see you there," he muttered. It was no apology as any other person may have offered, but it also was not a coarse, mocking laugh that he would have certainly provided instead not too long ago.

The blue haired girl first stared blankly, as if failing to comprehend the person in front of her, before taking the books from him with a curt nod and slight flush of the cheeks.

"Uh, yeah. Thanks." Gathering the books in her arms, just barely and quite clumsily, she offered a sweet smile brighter than her hair. It was a strange transition from her blank and dazed expression moments before, though Gajeel would not admit that he quite liked it. "Probably my fault for carrying more than my size, so don't worry about it."

Awkwardly, he scratched behind his head, and her expression seemed to laugh in itself. The girl beelined to the register, cheerily making small talk with the owner before filling her bag with newly acquired goods. Then, Gajeel was left staring at gibberish books, then staring at the girl's receding figure as she left the store, and wondering why he was unable to ask her for gift recommendations.

Sighing and letting it go, he thought that perhaps the whole event would have escaped him, if not for the discovery of an abandoned communication lacrima underneath the bookshelf. Realizing she had probably dropped that too from the lingering scent of beach rose and ink, it occurred to him that he now had an excuse for making her more than a fleeting face lost in a passing moment.

**3: Logophiliac**

Levy awoke in a cold sweat, her body chilled and sore at the brink of dawn. It was raining outside, the soft pitter patter of rain like the fall of restless tears, and she became suddenly aware of the faint rustle of blankets besides her.

Right. That's right. There was a new member of Memento Mori, and she they had begun sharing a room. The script mage's old roommate had died in battle long ago, leaving the dimly lit guild room to her. Levy did not know how or why her old roommate had died, for she didn't know her well at all. Even her name was lost, little more than a scrap of worthless recollection.

She turned her head to the opposite bed. Her new roommate was no different, faint in presence, lonely, and very much unaccustomed to things. Should she die today, Levy did not know if she would feel anything. It was hard, really, for any camaraderie to spark with her beyond the few she held dear. There were her brother-figures, Jet and Droy, there was her adopted sister, Wendy, and her sadistic friend Milliana…but that was about it.

The others came and went and came and went, and after the first ones, she learned to let them pass through her as little more than names to be soon forgotten. Kinmanship was too painful, as was memory, and they had all learned that. Devotion was all the guild needed, and as long as you pursued and believed in the purpose, then selflessness and friendship were unnecessary.

Look out for number one. Everyone else?

Background noise.

It seemed, however, that the new girl was stuck in between. She had the purpose burned into her bones, that was for sure, and she seemed rather used to solitude. Yet, there was an aura of longing about her, for something she had left but could not forget.

Memory was a cruel thing.

Juvia was her name, Levy recalled. They were introduced right after her mission, and settled in fast. She cleared out half of the room and fixed the bed, though she bet she could have left everything alone and it wouldn't have mattered. The new girl had no possessions save for a little white ghost of a doll, and a piece of metal.

In her bed Juvia slept restlessly, turning under the sheets every few minutes. Her blue hair, duller but sleeker than Levy's, chopped ragged and short yet still with an enticing wave, was a mess. She had skin like snow and lips like frost, the thrill of life sucked out of them. Slender arms and piano fingers were hauntingly lithe, and Levy could see the faint kisses of a blade snaking across them. She had scars of her own, and felt a small pang of pity for what was so dreadfully relatable.

However, she bit her lip and turned away, sitting up on the bed while it creaked and groaned. She hoped guiltily to herself that her roommate would come to fade away, and fast, before their lonely hearts ended up seeking more futile warmth.

Knowing the roughness of Juvia's sleep, and knowing she would not stir her anymore than she already has, Levy got up and got changed. She slipped on civilian clothes, loose white shorts hanging down to her knees, a blue crop top, black suspenders, and a white bandana. Simple silver hoops, a dab of hardly-there eyeliner, sandals unnoticeably signed around the edges. She brought a bag with her, using a tinge of magic to fit in a cloak—just in case—enough jewels to splurge on books, a notepad, and a communication lacrima. The lacrima was critical. Should Wendy or Milliana need her for some reason or another, as they oftentimes did, they could call.

Levy tightened her grasp on it as she slid it into the bag. Plus, it was always good to have one on her in case she spiraled, which she liked the think was not as often.

Taking one last glance at her new roommate's sleeping form, the dark mage walked out, the door silently locking behind her.

Memento Mori, though a dark guild, did not have the dark visage that people imagined there to be. In reality, it was stretched all throughout Fiore. Shadow Gear—the trio with Levy and her guys—along with Wendy, Milliana, and about eight others were a part of the Magnolia force. Throughout Magnolia itself they were separated into specific guild provided homes with covers. Levy, Milliana, Wendy, and now Juvia lived at a flower shop. Levy and Juvia's room were in the basement, whereas Milliana and Wendy housed comfortably in the attic.

The flower shop itself was also run by the three, and now four of them. Customers never noticed new faces as they were accustomed to the flower shop staff constantly changing under the assumption that the shop mostly hired college students. And as such, those students would always leave and be rehired as often as members of the guild were recruited, relocated, and died.

The sun was just rising, and Levy had gotten four hours of sleep. More than usual, really. She was accustomed to being awake all night with nightmares of the things she's seen, or having night missions. As she passed through the flower shop—bigger than one would expect—she could hear Milliana awakig from the attic. She had first shift today, which meant a lot of guys, and girls, would show up smitten just to flirt with her.

Levy, on the other hand, rushed to the book store. It was run by a nice old woman, and she frequented the place nearly every day. It was a nice place to get away from things. From the streets she associated with night jobs and assassinations. From the magic she'd just used to help steal a man's eyeballs. From the missions. There were always a couple days between assignments, and she was determined to use them to unwind a little.

Gajeel asked himself again why he was going to the bookstore with Salamander at nearly six in the morning, asked himself again how it was a good idea, and asked himself for the final time why he shouldn't just demolish the torturous building of horrors instead.

Reading?

Psshh.

Not in his lifetime.

But nooo, Kurogane Gajeel, iron dragon slayer, great Fairy Tail mage finds himself walking into the scent of old books and dust.

"Hurry the fuck up, Salamander," he snarled at his pink-haired companion. The teen had insisted upon going to the bookstore, as it was Lucy's birthday tomorrow. He knew that she loved this wretched place, and had been meaning to earn money for a whole array of books here. Many he suspected to be inspiration for the celestial mage's amateur novel in progress, though neither dragon slayers could tell the difference between an ancient tome and a children's picture book.

"Cool it metal head," Natsu replied nervously. One step into the store and both were overwhelmed by the amount of books. Books were scary…they could deal with monsters and dragons and thugs and mercenaries, but not books! They sucked out your very soul, replacing it with the dreadful sensation of utter and incoherent boredom!

"Let's just get what we came for and get the hell outta this place," he growled. "So…what are we here for again?"

….

"Salamander!"

…

He laughed weakly, scratching the back of his head.

"Hey, don't tell me…do you not know?"

"Nope!"

"The hell…why do I bother with you?"

Natsu gave a feral, smirking grin. "'Cuz Lily told you to~"

He was right, really. For such a tough piece of scrap metal, Gajeel bent like plastic to Pantherlily. He was like a father figure, despite being a freaking cat, and so when Lily told him to help out Natsu, he agreed. He was unaware, however, that it would be less helping out and more stumbling through a labyrinth of ink and paper filled nightmares.

A deep snarl rumbled in his throat. Suddenly glad that there were very few customers around, Gajeel shoved the smaller dragon slayer deeper into the shop and ventured to the other side. "Whatever. Let's get this over with. Go take your guesses."

He, on the other hand, was gonna find Lucy's stupid books and beat it. The rows and rows and rows of worthless paper were all the same to him, but this was a bookstore, which meant it had to be filled with nerds that would know something. Lucy went here so much any regular should have a slight clue.

Gajeel shrugged to himself, turning between another isle of shelves and knocking right into someone. The person in question was small and light, falling backwards with a thump and tumble of books onto the carpet. Surprised, he looked down to see a petite girl with a crop top, suspenders, and brilliant blue hair, rubbing her hip where she fell. Thick tomes and scrolls were scattered about her, and her hands were distinctly dark with ink.

Somewhat guilty and somewhat amused, he did not reach out his hand to help her out, but began to gather up the treacherous books around them.

"Didn't quite see you there," he muttered. It was no apology as any other person may have offered, but it also was not a coarse, mocking laugh that he would have certainly provided instead not too long ago.

The blue haired girl first stared blankly, as if failing to comprehend the person in front of her, before taking the books from him with a curt nod and slight flush of the cheeks.

"Uh, yeah. Thanks." Gathering the books in her arms, just barely and quite clumsily, she offered a sweet smile brighter than her hair. It was a strange transition from her blank and dazed expression moments before, though Gajeel would not admit that he quite liked it. "Probably my fault for carrying more than my size, so don't worry about it."

Awkwardly, he scratched behind his head, and her expression seemed to laugh in itself. The girl beelined to the register, cheerily making small talk with the owner before filling her bag with newly acquired goods. Then, Gajeel was left staring at gibberish books, then staring at the girl's receding figure as she left the store, and wondering why he was unable to ask her for gift recommendations.

Sighing and letting it go, he thought that perhaps the whole event would have escaped him, if not for the discovery of an abandoned communication lacrima underneath the bookshelf. Realizing she had probably dropped that too from the lingering scent of beach rose and ink, it occurred to him that he now had an excuse for making her more than a fleeting face lost in a passing moment.


End file.
